


Will We Fly?

by jcrowquill



Series: Spare the Angels [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Brotherly Bonding, Coping with being human, Humour, M/M, Sexuality, exploring a same-sex relationship for a straight character, it's okay if it's you, non-human psychology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-12
Updated: 2014-01-25
Packaged: 2018-01-08 10:46:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1131731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jcrowquill/pseuds/jcrowquill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam struggles to cope with his feelings for Gadreel as the former angel adjusts to life in a human body.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This follows [The Opposite of Fall](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1087117); if you don't read that fic first, this one will make absolutely no sense as the character status and relationships are not canon.
> 
> This is one of a handful of drabbles to go between The Opposite of Fall (alternate Season 9 ending) and the next long fic (alternate season 10 opener).

The first night, they talk until Gadreel falls asleep on Sam’s bed. The hunter curls up beside him and just watches him for a few minutes, trying to conceptualize what has happened to his angel.  He reaches over and rubs the other man’s arm absently, then reaches for the extra blanket folded at the foot of the bed.  Shifting as quietly as possible, he pulls the blanket up over the blond, turns out the lamp, then carefully tries to slip under the duvet.  They lie side by side in the dark, Sam under the blankets and Gadreel on top beside him.

He had known Gadreel intimately as an angel; their souls had been cozied right up against one another.  But he doesn’t know him as a man and he doesn’t know what to expect.  When he talks, he sounds like the voice he’d heard in his thoughts, but the lack of shared imagery and emotion makes it feel slightly disconnected.  He can’t really tell how Gadreel feels, he can only guess.  Just like they were normal people.

Gadreel didn’t talk about his loss of grace.  Sam doesn’t know if it’s because he hasn’t really grasped the permanence of it, because he has already sorted through it, or because he just doesn’t know how to even begin to react.  He remembers Castiel as a human and the identity issues that he suffered, then tries to imagine how they will impact the man sleeping atop his comforter.  
Sam can only reason so far before he has to just sigh and resign himself to sleep.  His mind buzzes distractingly though, even when he closes his eyes.

He went through an experimental stage in college.  He'd been 18 and open-minded, maybe a little curious and more than a little ready to go against his father's occasionally bigoted social rules.  There was also the fact that he'd caught sight of Dean chatting up a guy at a bar once and he'd wondered what that was about; he never mentioned it to his brother, but it didn't mean that it hadn't made the possibility more palatable in his mind.  In the end, though, the scientific method had proved that he wasn't really interested in men.  It wasn't that he found them repellent, they just didn't, as a rule, do it for him the way a smart, curvy girl did. 

Finding himself head over heels for Gadreel, who had been placed by his creator into a male body, puts him in an unusual position.  As far as guys go, the former angel is pretty good looking - tall, broad shouldered, sturdy, good jaw, nice face, good hair. Sam recognizes that he's attractive and if guys were his thing, he'd have been pretty much perfect.

Unfortunately, though, guys aren't his thing.

But, he tells himself, perhaps he isn't being fair.  He hadn't really even made it too far in his experimentation before he decided that enough was enough.  Just one guy, one night.  Bit of a make out, bit of a hand job, then an awkward but friendly good night after which he'd promptly lost the guy's number. But that was more than ten years ago, and he’s pretty different now.  

There was also the fact that he hadn't really even known the guy too well, and the relationship part was important to him.  He'd thought Jess was pretty cute, but after he'd fallen in love with her she had become the sexiest, smartest, most beautiful girl in the world.  He is stupidly in love with Gadreel, which seems like it can only make everything else easier.

He finally manages to quiet his thoughts and fall asleep, but he wakes early to find Gadreel pressed up against his side.  His head is on Sam’s shoulder, his soft blond hair tickling Sam’s jaw.  It’s very warm and comfortable, so the hunter lingers for a few minutes before carefully slipping out from under him.  Gadreel, exhausted, sleeps for a few hours longer.  Sam attributes it to the lingering effects of cold and lack of food coupled with a very clear conscience; the former angel had just been forgiven by the highest authority out there, after all.

The first day goes by comfortably; they talk, though not about anything of enormous significance.  It’s amazing how being mortal gives Gadreel a thousand topics of small talk to discuss, from differences in his mortal perception to tedious human acts.  He doesn’t refer to his feelings on being human so much as statements on the physical condition.  The most that he will admit is that he can’t conceptualize some things anymore now that he is limited by a human mind.

Sam gives Gadreel his own room, but the man sleeps in his bed again.  Sam feels a surge of apprehension at the arrangement, but Gadreel only wants to be near him.  When the blond holds him, he is aware of how strangely their angular bodies fit together, how muscular Gadreel’s body is in his arms.  How unlike a woman he is.  They sleep close again, sharing only chaste kisses.

The next day, Sam teaches Gadreel to shoot a gun.  He understands the concepts clearly and is frustrated by his own lack of skill; he irritably states that his understanding of mathematics and physics should grant him immediate accuracy.  Sam can only laugh and tell him that there’s more to marksmanship than math, and that he will develop muscle memory as well as a knowledge of the specific guns that they use.  Gadreel’s straightforward annoyance is charming in its own right, and Sam teaches him how to maintain the guns as a consolation.

That night, they research a case that Dean and his entourage found on their trip cross-country.  There’s something eating people’s spines in South Dakota and Dean doesn’t know what to think.  Sam is surprised by how… _not_ knowledgeable his companion is.  His time in lock-up meant that he had missed thousands of years of history, for both man and monster.

As he looks at the blond at the table, watching him pore over a book of monster lore, he wonders how this is going to work.

"It's interesting," Gadreel comments as he looks up from the page, oblivious to Sam’s quandary, "Most of these creatures didn't exist before my imprisonment.  All of these human-derived monsters are new to me."

There's an obvious charm to his earnest excitement as he explains that he's never seen a vampire, Wendigo, shifter, ghost, okami, kitsune, or werewolf.  His knowledge of monsters is surprisingly limited for a being his age; unlike Castiel, he doesn't know a million sigils and obscure bits of heavenly trivia.  Sam is surprised to realize that there are many things he can teach the former angel.

He texts Dean the information that he needs, then is excited to find that Charlie ran in to town to pick up a pizza for dinner.  It’s strange to think that it’s Dorothy and Gadreel’s first pizza.  Both seem interested, but not as excited as both Charlie and Sam seem to feel they should be.  The two reminisce over Ninja Turtles and 90’s cartoons, and how pizza had been pretty much the top of the hierarchy of cool foods when they were growing up.

The next few days are comparatively quiet.  Gadreel still doesn’t talk about his grace, though one night he talk about wings.  

“They’re all different, our wings.  Our forms are all different as well… just as there are thousands of poems all made using the same words in different structures.  Gabriel had golden wings - I remember them.  Long feathers that could have been made from the first rays of sunrise.  Lucifer’s wings were massive… bright.  He was… the most glorious, the most brilliant, the most intelligent.  He loved the most, and everything about him was perfect except for his pride.  But…” he pauses, “you know that.”

“Yeah, I think I see him differently than you do.”

“We all loved him,” Gadreel says, sighing, “He was the light bringer.  But I know you well enough that you dislike my favorable opinion of him.”

“You can like whoever you like,” Sam replies, holding his hands up defensively.

“Your Castiel is a smaller angel, even now.  He’s more suited to strategy and quick manuveurs - his wings are plain and black, even now. Mine were green and gold like the canopy of leaves in the garden - when I stretched them wide, I could shield the tallest trees.  I could be a million miles away in an instant, with just a thought and one stroke of my wings.”

He sighs quietly, then adds in a quiet, honest voice, “I miss them.”

The hunter reaches over and lightly rubs his beloved’s shoulder, knowing that this is his way of expressing his struggle.  He wants to encourage him to say more, but he won’t push.

Gadreel doesn’t say anything more on the topic that night or for the next few days.

One thing Sam finds is that Gadreel is not naturally inclined toward violence.  Most of the angels that Sam had met over the years had been hardened soldiers; by contrast, Gadreel is, at best, the ineffectual guard from a Star Wars movie. Left to his own devices, he would have been satisfied wiling away his hours reading the Men of Letters' library in its entirety or cataloging boxes of mythical flotsam. He's a lot like Sam himself in that regard, the way Castiel's heavenly soldier schtick is a match to Dean's rough and tumble give 'em hell attitude.

Sam often finds himself comparing Gadreel to Cas.  There are some superficial similarities, particularly in their cadence and straight-forward way of looking at the world, but in many ways they are completely opposite; where Cas seemed lost without his grace, Gadreel seems as though he is trying to forget ever having been an angel.  He has moments where he sits and stares abstracted as though heartbroken by his new humanity, but they pass and he is again curious and intense.  

Seeing that Gadreel's only a passable shot with a gun, Sam worries that he'll get himself killed.  When they'd been one person, they'd been strong and safe; both of their lives had been tied to the same vessel, so there was no risk of either living on alone.  Now, Gadreel is the same emotional risk as Jess, Madison, or Amelia had been.  He could be taken from him at any time and the thought makes Sam anxious.

When he is tired of teaching him to fight or quizzing him on methods for exterminating monsters, he sends him off with Dorothy so that Charlie can teach them both about technology.  Dorothy is biased against him for his misguided murder of Kevin, but she tolerates his company because their ginger instructor won't tolerate discord.  
Sam is a little bit relieved to have the time alone.  Talking to Gadreel, he feels the same warm glow of affection that he had known when he and the angel had shared a body, but the rest is different.  They can't communicate without speaking; their souls don't touch now.  

Gadreel touches his hand or his shoulder, kisses him lightly, and openly tells him that he loves him.  It's familiar and comfortable, but it doesn't feel like enough.  He doesn't know what would .  He waits for when his former angel will ask for more. Two weeks have passed since Gadreel arrived, but so far it's been only light kisses even at night when they share his bed.

Finding Gadreel scrutinizing the contents of the fridge, he walks up beside him and casually slips an arm about his waist.  He is immediately aware of the other man's muscular back against the inside of his forearm and how different it is from putting his arm around a woman. 

"Hey," he says, looking in at the mostly empty glass shelves.  He had never thought his brother the domestic type, but it really was Dean who kept the bunker livable.  Having him on the road somehow meant that they were all reduced to eating Easy Mac and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches like twelve year olds.

"We should buy food."

"Mm," Sam hums in agreement.  He appreciates that Gadreel has pressed comfortably up against his side, "Want to come with me?"

"I said we," he replies, looking at him with a slight but earnest smile.

The hunter laughs and leans forward to kiss him affectionately.  Gadreel turns against him, slipping his arms about Sam's waist as well.  He eases forward, tentatively opening his mouth to deepen the kiss.

Sam immediately, probably over-eagerly, slips his tongue into his mouth, pulling him closer.  Gadreel lacks experience but understands the concept; it's awkward but meaningful and hardly the worst kissing Sam's endured.

Within a minute or so, Sam has pressed him up against the kitchen counter. They are hip to hip and it's turned to a clumsy, needy make out session where Sam is feverishly working through his frustrated sexual confusion and Gadreel is struggling to keep pace.

The sturdy blond finally pushes him back to steal a breath.  They just slouch against each other for a moment, both a little breathless.

"I didn't think you'd want that," Gadreel admits in his soft, direct voice.

"What?" Sam asks, surprised, "Why?"

"You don't feel an attraction to men and this body is male."

"I feel an attraction to you," Sam says quickly.

"A spiritual, intellectual attraction," Gadreel replies thoughtfully, "but not necessarily a physical one. I understand that there is a difference."

"Okay..." Sam says uncertainly, wondering suddenly if he'd been forcing his attentions on the blond, "Do you... feel a physical attraction to me?"

"Yes."

Sam smiles broadly in relief and leans forward to kiss Gadreel affectionately.

"Guys aren't my thing, but I'd make an exception for you."


	2. Chapter 2

Dean, Cas, Crowley, and Kevin return to the bunker a few days later; they’re tired and frustrated, but relentlessly optimistic.  Crowley’s knowledge of demon identities allowed Dean and Cas to extract some helpful information about the whereabouts and condition of Mrs. Tran.  Heading to the central East Coast again, Dean makes the decision to swing through to pick up his brother.

“Least it’s not awkward now,” Dean tells Sam in the kitchen as he stocks the fridge with beer and meat, “Now they’re just annoying dicks to each other in the back seat.  Crowley’s still pretty Crowley and Kevin still freaking hates him.”

Sam notices how Dean avoids getting pulled into deeper conversation with Gadreel when he joins them a few minutes later.  He’s cordial, almost charming, but Sam knows his brother well enough to know that his friendliness is put on; his gaze when he talks to the former angel is slightly unfocused, as though he's looking through him rather than at him.

"You are just not okay with him, are you," Sam comments later when it’s just the two of them in the library.

"What, no. Whaaaat?  I'm fine.  He's fine."

Sam appreciates that Dean is making the effort for him, but he isn’t about to drop the conversation.  Knowing now that Dean sent human Castiel away on his behalf, he feels compelled to return the loyalty at least so far as finding out what the actual problem is.

"Dean, seriously."

"Sammy, he's your... you know, your thing.  I'm fine with it.  Really, you can do whatever you want with whoever as long as they're not trying to dick us over,” Dean replies, holding his hands up defensively, his green eyes cutting to the left, away from Sam’s face.

"He's not."

"I know, and that's why he's fine.  Right?"

"Is it because he's a dude?" Sam asks curiously.

He doesn’t honestly think that’s the problem. Dean can be a hell of a hypocrite, particularly when he thinks no one will know, but Sam doesn’t think that sexuality is an issue for him beyond some deeply-ingrained need to remind them what their dad would have thought.  However, framing the issue in a specific way was easier than digging around blindly; Dean would likely turn defensive and steer the conversation in a more telling direction.

"No, geez.  No.  It's not you two being whatever you are - _together_ , whatever.  I really don't care.”

“You sure?  Because he and I aren’t sleeping together.  It’s not a sex thing.”

“What?  I really don’t care.  You just- you just do whatever you want, okay?” his older brother says uncomfortably, a bit of color coming to his face.  

Sam recognizes that Dean’s tolerance for this conversation is very limited.  It will only take a few more directed pushes to get him to own up to whatever is bothering him.  He just needs to keep hitting him with assumptions and hyperbole.

“Is it because he was an angel?  I mean, we know that not all angels are bad, Dean.  Cas-”

“It's just him, okay?  It's weird playing nice-nice with someone who wore you around.  Well, me around.  It’s weird."

Yahtzee.

"I get that... You gonna be okay?"

"Yeah.  Yeah.  Really, Sammy, it's more important to me that you've got somebody, okay?  I want that for you."

That answer surprises him, but at the same time it doesn’t. Dean has always tabled his own feelings in favor of Sam’s happiness; especially now, after the trials, Sam knows that Dean feels the owes him something.  It’s easy to see that Dean will stomach his own discomfort to give him this chance. 

There’s also the mitigating fact that there are certain aspects of a relationship with Gadreel that are very convenient.  Dean’s main issue with Sam’s past romances was that they pulled him away from “the life.”  Gadreel is, by contrast, already a part of that life.

He would rather that Dean accept the situation on its own merits, but these are starting points.  

"Thanks," Sam breathes.

They’re both silent for a moment, both pretending to be very interested in their respective research.  Dean, not looking up from the page asks, “So, ah.  How is the whole… _dude_ thing working out for you?  Last I knew, you didn’t exactly…”

Sam looks up, surprised that Dean would bring up the topic.  Of course, he’s aware that it’s partly morbid curiosity.  Maybe it’s even partly because he wants Sam start considering the possibility that the Gadreel thing wasn’t going to work.  However, as he looks at Dean, who is studiously avoiding eye contact, he realizes that it’s genuine, brotherly concern.

“Ah… yeah,” he says a bit awkwardly, “I’m not.  I mean, I don’t.”

“That gonna be a problem?”

“I dunno… it really can’t… it can’t be a problem.  I’m…” he pauses uncertainly, “I’m-ah, in completely love with him.”

Dean nods slowly, not sure what to say.  He clears his throat, then asks carefully, “And he’s…?”

“Same.”

“Straight too?”

“Dunno,” Sam says, shaking his head,  “He’s an angel.  It’s kinda a non-binary sort of-”

“Right, right,” Dean says, his eyes flicking up to Sam’s face only briefly, “I got it. Well, ah.  Yeah.  I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

They’re quiet again, both still awkward. To Dean’s chagrin, he recognizes that the conversation isn’t over, and that by asking the questions that he asked, he has opened the floor to other questions that he would really rather avoid.

"How does it work with you and Cas?"

Yeah, exactly the area of questioning that Dean wanted to avoid.

"Uh."

"Don't bother, Dean.  I know.  Just give me big brother advice, like how you told me how to put the moves on Nicky Stanton in high school," Sam says good-naturedly, trying to play it off into territory where Dean was more comfortable.  He’d be hard pressed to say ‘open’, but he knows Dean well enough to know that he’ll rise to the occasion if it means he gets to be the instructive, know-it-all older sibling.

To his surprise, Dean’s response remains avoidant.

"I, uh, don't think it's the same."

"Why?"

"Cas and I kinda have... I dunno.  A different thing,” the elder Winchester mumbles.

"What do you mean?"

"Cas... Cas explained to me once that he, uh, kinda, uh, decided he wanted me when he touched my soul in hell.  Like, soul on grace contact.  He knew everything about me and was still like, damn, okay, that's the one."

Sam grins in spite of himself as he watches Dean trying to downplay something mindlessly romantic.  Particularly since he knows exactly to what Dean is referring, knows exactly what it feels like, and he knows that it’s not just the casual thing Dean wants to make him think it is.

"Okay... yeah, Gadreel and I had that."

"Yeah, but like, you guys had it go both ways.  You remember crap that I don't.  I _guess_ I knew all that stuff about Cas, but it was gone when I woke up.  The feeling's still there, but it's not like... I dunno.  I don't have the deep soul... sharing... thing like he does.  My side of it anyway is more like I dunno a normal... thing."

"Like a normal relationship."

"Ah, yeah, sort of. Yeah."

"And there's the fact that you like dudes, so you can just act like its a normal thing.."

"No, I like _Cas_ ,” Dean insists, as though this is an important distinction.

Sam rolls his eyes, "Dean, seriously.  I'm not Dad.  I don't care.  I'm not really in a place to judge anyway."

“No, you’re freaking not.”

“I really don’t care, Dean.  I’ve known since like high school.”

“What?  Fuck you, no.”

Sam snorts, shaking his head.  Dean has lifted up the book and is actually holding it up between them like some sort of shield.  Only his eyes are visible above the dusty red-brown cover, and those eyes are both mortified and murderous.

“So… is… uh, Cas into it?  You, I mean?  Like… physically?”

Dean groans and lowers his forehead to the slick wood surface of the table, not answering.

“Is he?”

“Yeah, okay, he is.  He’s into it. Geez, Sam.  Angels can be into it.”

Sam nods, turning that over in his head.  He has a lot of questions and he knows that, realistically, he doesn’t have long before his closet-case brother gets too flustered and just flounces fabulously off to his room in a cloud of ill-tempered manly hauteur.

“Right… okay.  So.  How should I, I dunno, figure this out with him?”

“For Chrissake, I dunno.  Make out a bit, see where it goes, just- I don’t know.  Take it slow.  And… uh.  I don’t know.  Just… like, talk to him about it.  Maybe you guys aren’t gonna be… I dunno.  Maybe you won’t have that kind of… thing.  Like maybe it’ll just be like, a not-physical thing.  I mean, if you’re not into dudes. You don't have to- I mean, you can be _whatever the hell you are_ without fucking.”

Sam nods, touched that Dean managed to mutter his way through that whole explanation despite his obvious discomfort with everything related to both Gadreel and non-heteronormativity.  He drags his fingers back through his hair, feeling his dry fingertips catch on a few split ends.  

He wonders if it really could be a relationship without the physicality; while Sam knows that asexuality is a thing, it isn’t _his_ thing.  He likes to express himself physically, he likes sex.  He also knows from a few longer kisses that the former angel reacts positively to his touch.  He’d felt him half-hard pressed up against his side, and Gadreel had known him well enough to be embarrassed about it.

“Okay.  Right.”

Silence again.

“You can… ah, crap I’m going to regret saying this, but, uh, you can talk to me if you need to.  About… this, I mean.  The… thing.  The.. Gadreel… thing,” Dean says, making a sort of half-heartedly descriptive gesture with one hand.  The other, which is still holding the book, is practically white-knuckled.

The taller brother grins.  It’s a big offer, one that he knows takes a lot for Dean to choke out.  Of course, he can’t say so, he can’t even really acknowledge that it’s a big deal.  That wasn’t the way it worked with Dean.  He’d clap him on the shoulder later, bring him a beer without being asked when they watched a movie or something, but a direct ‘thank you’ would have embarrassed Dean too much.

Even so, Sam suddenly feels a surge of the blackest sibling evil, like this is an opportunity to get back for every time Dean had overshared about one of his female conquests when they'd been younger. Every time he'd found a sock on the hotel door to keep him away, and every time he’d found Dean balls deep in some chick when he'd forgotten the sock on the hotel door to keep him away.  Every time he'd ever found a condom wrapper in the back of the impala when he was settling in to sleep.

"So how do you _do_ it?"

Dean nearly choked on his beer.  

"What the fuck, Sam, that's what the Internet is for.  You wanna bone a dude, you go look up some freaking porn."

He shakes his head, his face flushed right up to the roots of his hair.

Sam grins wickedly, putting on an innocent voice, "No, really, Dean.  I don't even know where to start.  How do guys do it?"

"Don't freaking even, Sam."

"Come on, man," Sam cackles, "Tell me about the _Dean Winchester method,_ the man edition."

"Okay, we're done," Dean says, holding up his hands, "Done."

"Really?  Come on.  You're the only guy I know who's done the deal with an angel."

"Gadreel's not an angel, he's just a dude."

“Oh, I see.  Just because Gadreel doesn’t have wings anymore, right.  Because you didn’t still think of Cas as an angel even when he lost his grace.  And I’m sure you didn’t-”

“Nope, done.  Done, done,” Dean says, so embarrassed that he is actually grinning like an idiot as he gets to his feet and pushes in his chair, “I think you’re fine, you’ve got this touched by an angel thing down.  You’re good.”

Sam cackles as his brother makes an irritable, embarrassed retreat.

Dean’s revenge comes the next day in a form that Sam had never expected.

Castiel catches him alone in one of the storage rooms, his angular face intense.  The angel inclines his chin thoughtfully, then offers in his usual monotone, “Sam, Dean tells me that you had some questions about initiating sexual contact with an ang-”

“Nope,” Sam says, throwing his hands up between them in the universal gesture of _Hold it right freaking there_. Shaking his head at the angel’s confusion, he repeats, “Nope, I’m good.”

“But Dean said-”

“Nope,” Sam says, laughing and reddening before practically darting from the room.

  
\---------------------------------------

  
Sam doesn’t really want to leave Gadreel, but Castiel’s attention is needed in heaven and Dean doesn’t want to be the only sane person in the Impala.  Gadreel offers to come, but between his relative uselessness and the fact that Dean doesn’t want a backseat line-up of a former angel, a former demon, and a questionable Prophet of the Lord, it’s decided that he will stay at the bunker and continue research and marksmanship practice.

As they drive down the highway, Sam wonders how Dean spent so much time away from Cas.  Over the years, there had been times when they didn’t see the angel for weeks at a time.  From what he’d been able to piece together, they’d been an on-and-off-again thing; still, Sam feels a sinking feeling in his stomach as they put miles on the odometer.  
Dean glances over at him, then turns up the radio and shifts the balance to the back seat so that their two other passengers won’t hear him as clearly.

“It’s just because it’s new.”

“What?”

“You’re mopey now because it’s new.  It’ll… mellow.”

Sam wants to say something snotty, like that Cas had also just been able to pop in for a visit whenever Dean called him.  He’s tempted to point out that Gadreel is a vulnerable, clueless human, and Cas was, with only a brief exception, a military-grade angel.  However, he recognizes that Dean’s trying to be helpful.  

“Yeah, I know.”

He just nods.

“Boyfriend troubles?” Crowley pipes up from the back.  

In response, Deans turns up the radio to blast them out until Kevin raises a yell of protest.  


\---------------------------------------------  
  
 _Castiel, if you could spare a moment._

The archangel answers his Gadreel’s call readily because Sam had asked him to keep an eye on him while they were away. Though Castiel still harbors some lingering resentment for everything that transpired over the months prior, he won’t abandon his now-human brother.

“Oh,” Gadreel remarks in surprise, raising his dark eyes to meet Castiel’s brighter blue ones, “I hadn’t expected you so soon.”

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes, I just wanted to talk to you.”

Castiel seems perplexed by that, but he doesn’t question it.  He can’t stay for too long, but he drops down into the chair at Sam’s desk.  Gadreel is sitting on the edge of the bed that he has been sharing with his beloved, his long legs drawn up comfortably.

“About what?”

“Heaven, what’s going on there.”

The angel looks at him thoughtfully for a moment, then asks, “Why?”

“It was my home and the heavenly host was my family once.”

Shifting slightly in the chair, Cas fixes him with a calculating stare.  He doesn’t understand Gadreel and hadn’t even when they had both been angels; part of him regrets that he had no opportunity for spiritual communion with his brother before his permanent fall.  There are many things that he would like to have known and understood, both about Gadreel himself and the heaven that he remembered, but that opportunity is gone.

“It’s… been quite some time since you properly saw heaven, my brother,” Castiel tells him carefully, putting some gentle distance between them even as he refers to him as family, “Your imprisonment spans the entirety of man’s recorded time, and many things changed.  I don’t know how similar heaven would have been to what you knew even before the apocalypse and the fall.”

The blond nods slowly, watching Castiel.  He can’t see his wings, but he knows that they’re there and he feels a deep, aching envy.

“Is it recovering?”

Cas inclines his chin slightly, “Yes, I believe.  In the province of heaven itself, there is peace.  The angels who returned once the gates opened are unified.  It is the factions on earth who remain… problematic.  It is from those angels that we must-”

He pauses, then looks at the other man, “Has Sam placed any wards on you, or given you any tattoos?”

“No… though I have an anti-possession charm,” Gadreel replies, fishing it out of the neck of his shirt by its thin leather tether.

Without asking permission, Cas reaches between them and lays a hand on his chest.  He carves the same enochian sigils onto his brother’s mortal bones that he once placed on the Winchesters, masking him from the sight of his fellow angels.  Gadreel makes a pained sound as he curls inward slightly.

He remains hunched over for a moment, breathing hard.  He isn’t a soldier, nor is he even particularly stoic.  The runes hurt and he is unaccustomed to pain, so he simply holds very still while the sensation fades.

When he looks up, Castiel is looking at him thoughtfully, “You will also need an anti-possession tattoo…”

He touches the man’s upper chest lightly and Gadreel yelps in surprise as ink infuses into his skin.  Clapping his hand to the new mark, which is oozing blood in the shape of a blazing pentagram through his thin t-shirt, he looks at the angel uncomprehendingly.  He is fairly certain that angel can create those marks without accompanying pain, but he knows better than to say so.

“Thank you,” he says breathlessly.

Cas nods, still scrutinizing him, “You’re welcome.”

Gadreel is quiet for a moment.  He recognizes that he is still a bit standoffish, but he knows that the angel won’t deny him comfort.  They have spoken briefly since his loss of grace and he sees the compassion in his younger brother’s face and in the slope of his strong, slim shoulders.

“You’ve been without grace, Castiel.  How do I go on?”

The angel looks at him, surprised, “I had thought you were doing well.”

“At this moment, I am far from everything that I love and I am incapable of changing my condition.”

“ _At this moment_ ,” Castiel repeats objectively, leaning forward in his chair.  His voice is quiet and firm, but has a note of warmth.

“My loss of grace is permanent.”

Castiel mulls over that, thinking of what the blond had told him when they had been reunited after Christmas.  _I am elated that our father has forgiven me, but he has given me a weighty penance.  My nature has been transformed; I will live out a mortal life, suffering man’s burdens, and if I am worthy I will rejoin my brothers in heaven as a human soul.  This sentence is the will of God and is therefore unalterable._

There were few things in his experience that were unalterable, but he knows better than to buck a direct commandment from God.  Having recently felt the presence of the Lord in his own body, the angel has a refreshed commitment to his family and his father as well as a healthy fear of the latter.

“You can learn to be a good man.”

Gadreel feels his response as keenly as a sharp to the face, but he nods stoically.  He closes his eyes briefly, composing his next thought, and he is surprised and frustrated by the human emotion in his voice, “How can I be only a man after an eternity of being an angel, Castiel?”

“You have our father’s forgiveness and Sam’s love.”

Castiel is more comforting than another angel would have been, but that doesn’t mean that his words make Gadreel feel any better.  The former angel drags his fingers back through his hair in agitation, then jerkily clasps his hands together in his lap.

“Neither of which are enough to fill my entire life,” he says with quiet desperation that surprises the archangel, “I am grateful for the Lord’s forgiveness… and I love Sam with all that I could ever be.  But our father put me into a body that my beloved cannot love, no doubt as a part of my penance…”

“Did Sam _say_ that he couldn’t love you?”

“No, but I know him.”

“My advice to you,” Castiel says, meeting his eyes with a slight, bracing smile, “would be to recognize the strength and flexibility of your most beloved.  Sam Winchester has overcome Lucifer’s possession, memories of being locked in the Cage, and recently, death itself.”

“I don’t want to be another horror to overcome.”

The angel sighs quietly, then rubs the bridge of his nose with his fingertips as he’s seen Dean do many times before. It’s a very human gesture, despite that he is far from human.  He looks at Gadreel wearily, his expression open but slightly impatient, “You’re disrespecting him by putting words in his mouth.”

Gadreel is surprised by that and momentarily falls silent.

Castiel waits, and when Gadreel doesn’t speak again  he says, “You need to remember patience.  Be the angel who watched the garden, Gadreel, and understand that nothing on this earth works out immediately, particularly where it concerns the Winchesters.”

There’s a slight edge to the words; Castiel has suffered and lost more since knowing them than anytime that came before.  Dean, personally, had wounded him more deeply and more often, usually thoughtlessly, than anyone else he’d ever known.  And yet, the hunter is the complement to his grace and the only creature in the universe to whom he truly feels connected.  He would literally do anything for him, and he knows from watching Gadreel that he feels exactly the same way.

And further, Gadreel was fortunate enough to not only have a two-sided bond, but to have it with the less emotionally stunted of the brothers.  For that, Castiel was subtly envious.  And because of that, his patience with his elder brother is limited.

“So what then,” Gadreel repeats quietly, “What do I do now?  What am I good for?  Being loved by Sam Winchester, even in the most ideal arrangement, is not a complete life; I can’t use him to build myself.  I can't define my identity by the fact that I love him.”

Castiel understands what he means; his love for Dean is a part of him, but it is not and could never be all of him.  Even when he had been human, he could never have just resigned himself to being one-faceted; he had fought, he had traveled, he had attempted to make a new life for himself.  

Gadreel doesn’t have same will to fight, though.  The older angel had spent most of his life locked in an airtight box, away from the sun, and before that he had been a sentry over a quiet patch of greenery.  Even given freedom as an angel, he wouldn’t have known what to do with himself; given freedom as a mere human man, he is completely lost. 

“Sam is your beloved, and Dean is your new brother as clearly as I am,” Castiel tells him quietly, “We will help you to find your place in your new life… but you need to have patience and you need to have strength.”

In an unaccustomed gesture, he reaches over and lightly takes the blond’s hand and squeezes it lightly, “You’ve been given a difficult path by God, Gadreel, that is why it is your penance.  But it isn’t without opportunities, and you won’t be by yourself.”

The man inhales deeply and looks down at their linked hands.  He takes a deep breath, then asks, his tone entirely different from before, “What do I do, then, brother?”

Castiel leans over and kisses his forehead, the way he might have brushed wingtips with him as an angel, then rises to his feet.  With a quiet rustle of wings, he is gone.


	3. Chapter 3

When they return to the bunker a week later, they’re exhausted.

Sam crawls into bed late, having noiselessly shed most of his clothes in the five feet between the door and the bed without bothering to turn on the light.  He slips his arms around Gadreel’s solid waist, relieved to be near him again, and flattens himself up against his back.  He settles against him, wanting the his warmth after the cold and the road.  He also wants his company but simultaneously wants to let him sleep.

Gadreel stirs tiredly and mumbles groggily, “Welcome home, beloved.”

“Hi,” Sam replies, pulling him closer and burying his nose in the short, soft hair at the nape of his neck.

The former angel smiles, closing his eyes again. They talked on the phone a few times while Sam was on the road, but it wasn't the same as feeling his warmth along his back; that one word breathed against his skin puts him at ease more than anything else could have. 

Sam’s cool fingers graze his bare abdomen where his shirt has hiked up, and the hunter intuitively slides the flat of his palm across his tummy to rest against his rib cage.

"How was the drive from Raleigh?" Gadreel asks, shifting again to conform to the line of Sam's body.  

"Long," Sam murmurs, lightly dragging his fingertips against the other man's ribs. The bones are so much broader, heavier than anyone else he's ever held like this. He doesn't know why he feels so affectionate, but he needs the contact after the time away.

He tenderly kisses the back of his neck and shoulders, half wishing that they were both shirtless so that they could be closer.  Gadreel smells good, clean and familiar, and he fits comfortably into his arms.  He's drowsy and for a moment he almost imagines that they can hear each other again.  That's the closeness that he wants, but just holding, caressing, and kissing him feels good.

He murmurs, "Hey, Gadreel... Can I have a kiss hello?"

The other man turns, twisting at the waist so that he is on his back with his face turned to Sam in the half-darkness.  Sam feels a surge of warmth as he leans forward and kisses him lightly.  The other man kisses him back in kind, lips chastely pressed.  

Sam can feel his restraint and remembers their conversation in the kitchen.  Gadreel knows he's straight and won't push him, even if he wants more.  For some reason, this restraint feels like another wall, even if it is born from respect; Sam kisses him again, this time open-mouthed.  Gadreel responds easily, meeting him with surprising grace despite his relative inexperience. 

Sam slides his tongue against his angel's, pulling him closer.  Gadreel kisses him back eagerly, clearly relaxing under his attentions.  His movements are natural and complementary to Sam's, and the hunter finds his own attentions becoming more heated. It's been a long time since he's been kissed like this. 

When Gadreel turns toward him, Sam pulls him close.  The smaller man keeps a slight distance between them by resting his hands against his chest even as he kisses him almost desperately.  Without really meaning to, Sam is stroking his hands over Gadreel's chest and arms.  He realizes that this feels good, that he wants to be kissing the other man this way, and that this is okay.

“You need sleep,” Gadrel breathes when he manages to pull back. He smiles, pushing him away and putting his back to him again, “But thank you for kissing me.”

“I _like_ kissing you,” Sam tells him with a quiet laugh, spooning up against him again.  He sighs comfortably, hugging him tightly as though he is trying to crush them back into one person.  Even this close, he feels remote, so outside of Gadreel's emotion.

Gadreel laughs softly.  Hearing him laugh is still a fairly rare occurrence; like Castiel, his sense of humor is several degrees off from human.  He laughs more easily and smiles more readily now, but he still comes across as rather somber most of the time.

"I just want to be close to you," Gadreel says earnestly.

“And here we are,” the hunter replies cheekily, kissing the back of his head. 

The angel smiles, “Yes.”

“What'd you do while I was gone?" 

“I did any research that you asked for, first.  I also continued your brother's project to organize the storage locker in the east corner. I left an inventory sheet on his desk."

"He'll be happy about that."

"He'll still hate me, I'm certain."

Sam groans, giving him a firm squeeze, "He doesn't hate you."

"He would definitely kill me if not for you."

"Well," Sam says uncertainly, shaking his head tiredly, "Sometimes things take time.  You know?  Dean's a pretty private guy and you were like in his head... it's gonna be awhile before he gets over that."

Gadreel sighs, "I understand, but I feel as though there's nothing I can do."

The hunter chews the inside of his lip thoughtfully, "Well, there... isn't really.  Dean's gotta just get used to it."

He nods against his shoulder, but doesn't reply aloud. Sam knows him well enough to know that he's thinking rather than being sullen, and that he'll answer when he sorts out what he wants to say.  

"All right," he replies.

Sam sighs, "I know you're thinking more than that."

Gadreel can't tell Sam that he’s frustrated that all he can do is wait for people to 'get used to' him, or that he's afraid that they will lose each other because they’re almost ordinary now, or that he's lonely in his own head.  He doesn't want to appear weak or ungrateful by mourning his loss of grace.  He can't say that he doesn't know who he is if he isn't an angel. He can't admit that he wants what Dean and Castiel have, what he glimpsed the night that the sick angel should have died. He feels guilty for wanting so much when Sam has forgiven him already for all of the horrible things he’s done, knowing all of them.

He just nods to acknowledge the truth of Sam's statement, then settles again to sleep.

Sam feels that distance again.  He feels as though they are losing what they have because a human Gadreel holds his cards closer to his chest.  The hunter pulls back and rolls up onto one elbow so that he can look down at him, "So tell me.  I can't hear your thoughts anymore, but we can talk.  I want that, for us to talk."

Gadreel watches him in the dim light, then sighs.  For some reason it's so much harder to speak his thoughts than to have someone just listening to them unfiltered.  He knows that there is opportunity now for misunderstanding because the context and the emotion isn't shared. He finally sighs and admits, "I don't really know how."

Sam feels a sharp pang at the distance that those words put between them. He drapes his arm across his lover's middle then leans over to meet his eyes in the partial darkness, "Just... I don't know.  I love you. Don't forget that, okay? I know this is hard, but just be patient with it, right?"

Gadreel nods, leaning close to kiss him, "I know."

Sam leans into the contact, briefly deepening the kiss.  He leans his brow against his lover's for a moment, then sighs, "Are you doing all right?"

Gadreel turns that over in his head, trying to pick out the best answer.  He's human enough now that he knows that there are politics to speech, things that are said and not said aloud. Unfortunately, he doesn't which is which and is more likely to just stay silent for fear of making a mistake.

All the same, he doesn't want to lie.

"I'm not sure."

Sam nods slowly, feeling like that's a response he can work with.  He’s used to coaxing feelings out of his irritatingly closed-mouthed brother, so this isn’t such a new experience.  Dean tends to be feast or famine - either he is morosely bottling up every negative feeling that he is experiencing or he is going full-out diva over what a horrible person he is and how doomed everyone in his life is as a result.  It’s actually pretty exhausting, but it does lead to the development of some pretty good, subversive emotional needling skills. 

He pulls back to a more comfortable speaking distance, "Okay... well, why are you confused?"

"There are  just a lot of things and the only thing I can do is wait.  I might be alright if I just wait, but I don't know now."

"What are the things?"

"There are too many."

"Choose one.  Just tell me about one. A middle- sized problem."

The former angel sighs weightily, "I've wronged every member of my new family."

"All right..." Sam replies consideringly.  If that is medium, he shudders to think what Gadreel considers a ‘large’ problem.  He isn’t sure of a strategy yet for this, so he stalls by stating what he thinks is obvious, "Guilt is a new emotion for you, isn't it?"

Gadreel looks at him blankly, then snorts.  He sounds a little bit like Charlie when he does, and Sam realizes abruptly that they were going to need to be careful whose social mannerisms his boyfriend emulated.  Last thing they needed was their hulking blond angel sounding like their nerdy little hacker girl.

"Beloved, I'm the one who let evil into the Garden of Eden. Guilt is not new to me."

The hunter laughs a little at that, "Okay, okay.  Fair enough.  Well, if it makes you feel any better, this is nothing compared to that... and God forgave you, remember."

"I don't know if my fellow angels did."

"Well," Sam concedes,"God did.  And you're the one who reopened heaven, right?  So that has to go a long way toward redeeming you to them."

"It was built on Castiel's sacrifice."

"Yes, but heaven was locked with his grace, so he had things to make up for too.  Both mistakes. You two worked together, so you share the credit."

Gadreel considers that, then nods, "Alright."

"But that wasn't your problem.  Okay.  Wronging our family.  Well, let's break it down into smaller pieces."

"I executed Kevin, I possessed Dean, and I would not possess Castiel."

Sam had been unaware that using Castiel as a vessel had been on the table, but it doesn't surprise him; he knows the angel well enough to know that he would do anything for Dean.  Sometimes he marvels at the sacrifices that people were willing to make for his brother and the possessions they'd overcome to save him.  And yet the idiot is convinced that he is worthless and undeserving, despite that absolutely no one else seems to think so.

"Okay, well.  Okay.  All of these situations are resolved now, right?  So maybe you just need to talk to them, maybe try apologizing."

"Apologize?" he asks, obviously only considering this for the first time now.

"Well, this was very... personal.  You know?"

"I know."

"Have you actually talked to anyone about it?"

"I don't know what to say," he says, shaking his head, "I'm ill-prepared to apologize for killing someone or taking possession, which he asked for-."

" _Under duress_ , Gadreel, he didn't really want it. You know that it was a bargain."

The former angel pauses, then sighs weightily, "I know."

Sam nods, then blows out a breath through his nose.  “Right.  Well.  Yeah, those are tough topics, I agree with you there.  Still, you know, it might be worth trying."

Gadreel nods, "I can try."

"Otherwise, though, yeah.  Some of it, yeah, you will just have to wait.  Personal relations are complicated."

“Mm,” he hums in agreement, closing his eyes, “Everything is complicated now."

"It'll get easier though."

Gadreel turns away again, this time pulling Sam's arm across himself.  The hunter spoons up behind him, oversensitized to the feeling of the muscles of his back against his stomach.  He's quiet for a moment before he asks, almost nervously, "Do you think we'll get easier?"

Sam is surprised by Gadreel's sudden honesty, but the little twinge only lasts for a moment before it's replaced with a warmer emotion.  He sees the proud creature he loves in the simple question, he sees the honesty and lack of inhibition that promises open communication.  Most, he sees Gadreel reading him perfectly and asking the question that they're both thinking.

He kisses his hair, then smiles, "Yeah.  It's easier already.  We just need to keep talking."

Gadreel smiles too, turning slightly toward him, "You’re tired.”

Sam nods, "I am."  
  


\-------------

  
It takes Sam a surprisingly long time to fall asleep, despite exhaustion. He feels as though he has a lot to think about, between the hunt and his personal life.  He wakes slowly to find that Gadreel was dead out.  While he may not have required sleep in the past, he has taken to it like a fish to water.  Sam closes his eyes again and just focuses on the warm body in his arms.

One arm is tucked under Gadreel's neck, keeping him effectively trapped if he doesn't want to wake his lover.  His other hand lays against Gadreel's tummy, under his shirt. 

Sam lightly caresses the other man's skin, tucking himself closer in the hope of sleeping just a bit longer.  He absentmindedly catalogs the dip below his ribs and the hollow of his solar plexus, the solid weight of his ribs and breastbone.  He loops back downward over the same points, wondering if he would learn to want him; he feels better being in physical contact with him, but he still doesn't feel lust toward him.  He is content with his body wrapped around the other man and his hand against his bare skin.

He drowsily drags his hand over Gadreel's hip and upper thigh, though the contact is kept innocent by the fabric between them. He can feel the muscles in his strong leg under his fingertips.  _It's not unpleasant_ , he thinks as he traces it back upward, which brings his lazy touch up over the inside of his leg.

"Sam?" Gadreel asks drowsily.

The hunter realizes that he had been pretty much feeling up his sleeping boyfriend and immediately reddens, popping the pleasant bubble of half-dozing cuddling.

"Sorry," he murmurs.

The other man replies, shifting slightly against him to get more comfortable, "You don't have to stop."

Sam nods, kissing the back of his shoulder.  He doesn't want to tease him, but he is enjoying just caressing him and learning the lines of his body.  Maybe something more would come of it, but he is aware that there is no pressure to do anything.

He can feel that the blond is relaxed in his arms, just soaking in the attention like a cat.  Sam's hands move caressingly over Gadreel's chest and upper arms, learning the planes created by muscle and bone.  When his fingertips brush his nipple, he feels the man's breath catch.  He doesn't linger, though, as he follows the line of his collarbone and trachea to his jawbone.  

He wraps his hand along his jaw, leaning in to kiss his neck.  There is curiosity in it and open exploration.  Both know that it could end at any time, but Sam wants to push his own comfort level.  He nuzzles Gadreel's throat with his lips and the blond almost moans at the light contact.  The sound makes Sam's blood warm.  He shifts closer, pressing affectionate nips and kisses to the back of his neck as his hand moves downward.  He lingers a moment at his waist, then follows the line of his hip bone downward to brush his fingers over the tented front of his boxers.

Gadreel's breath catches again as he jumps in slight surprise; Sam can feel the tension in the blond's muscles as he tries to hold still.  For some reason, that makes this okay; the fact that Gadreel is nervous and eager makes his own uncertainty feel normal.  With slightly more confidence, he caresses his length through the thin cotton.  He can feel that it's generous and solid, like the rest of his body, and Gadreel’s hips twitch as he breath catches. 

_Least if I'm going gay, he's got a big dick_ , Sam thinks ruefully, lightly stroking up and down with a little smile. There is a small damp spot where Gadreel is already wet, and Sam has the strange realization that despite being millions of years old, Gadreel has never been touched this way.

 _Welllp, let's see what happens_ , he thinks bracingly as he slips his fingers past the front of Gadreel's boxers to finally curl his fingers around his bare arousal.  It's warm and heavy in his palm, and it's actually not bad. Really, in this position, it's almost like jacking himself.  That's a thought to focus on, for normalcy if he needs it later.

"Ah," Gadreel gasps, his hips jerking slightly, "Sorry..."

"No," Sam says softly, surprised to find himself aroused by the sound of Gadreel's husky voice, "I, uh, want to know when you like things."

He strokes upward slowly, learning the slight curve of his arousal.  Gadreel exhales slowly, leaning back against him, "You don't-"

"I want to.  May I?" Sam asks.

Gadreel nods, bowing his head as his lover's fingers slide over the head of his cock. 

"You can tell me to stop any time," Sam assures him, mouthing his neck as he begins to smoothly stroke him.

He is rewarded by Gadreel's quiet moan, a sound that sends a bolt of heat to his own groin.  It doesn't matter that it's a soft, smooth male voice - it's Gadreel and it's genuine, naive pleasure.  Sam focuses on the sounds that the other man makes rather than what he's actually doing.  

Gadreel is still very restrained, but his breathing is rough and his moans grow in frequency and desperation though they stay quiet.  Without realizing what he's doing, his hips intuitively push forward to meet Sam's strokes. When he shifts back each time, it presses his backside against the taut front of Sam's boxers.  The first time, it draws a quiet groan from the hunter, which surprises them both.  Gadreel tries to breathe out an apology, but Sam shushes him, pushing up more firmly against him.

Sam is surprised by how good it feels to listen to the former angel and let him squirm against him.  His hand moves smoothly, catching a bit of slickness from the head of his prick.  Gadreel is rapidly coming undone, his breathing quick and irregular as his hips piston into Sam's touch.

Slightly panicked by the overwhelming sensations, Gadreel asks uncertainly, "Sam?"

Then his hips stutter and he cries out softly, pressing a hand to his mouth to try to quiet himself as he spills over Sam's fingers.

The taller man suddenly returns to reality, the reality where he's jerking off a former angel, a male former angel, and that angel just came all over his hand.  He diligently finishes him off, catching the load in his palm to minimize the mess and stroking him down from his high.

He realizes suddenly that he's been rutting against Gadreel, actually thrusting his hips to slide his clothed arousal against the cleft of the blond's backside.  Aside from the awkward realization that he'd been completely into grinding on a dude's ass, he is now completely, painfully hard and almost bordering on orgasm himself.  He takes a deep, bracing breath, and just listens to Gadreel's labored breathing for a moment.

Determined to be cool about this, he finally sits up and reaches over for a tissue to wipe off his hand.  He feels awkward, though more with himself than the flushed blond curled up in the bed.  

 _That was too much_ , he thinks, _I don't think I was ready for that._

He remembers being 14 and getting drawn into making out with a girl at school at one of the few dances he'd attended.  He'd liked her, yeah, but he hadn't really been prepared to have someone else's tongue in his mouth.  He'd done it anyway because it was what guys did, and y'know score and all that, but he'd felt shaken afterward and a bit anxious. He just hadn't quite been ready.

That was a little bit how he felt now.  Gadreel is actually very sexy in bed beside him, he decides, with his cheeks attractively pink and his hair mussed, and he doesn't regret getting him off.  At the moment, he just feels a bit overwhelmed.  He settles again, wrapping his arms around Gadreel and holding him tightly. The angel, who had been smiling, turns in his arms to take a protective hold on him.  It was strange how quickly their roles could shift, from Sam cradling the spent angel against his chest to Gadreel stepping up as guardian angel.

"Are you alright?" he asks uncertainly.

"Yeah... yeah, I'm good," Sam murmurs, tucking himself up close to his lover.

Gadreel's quiet again for a moment before he asks, "Would you tell me if you weren't?"

Sam nods, "Yeah."

He realizes then that he's doing exactly what Gadreel had done the other night.  He isn't talking when they needed to talk.  He takes a deep breath.

"It was just a bit overwhelming."

"But you're all right?"

"Yes."

"Did you..." Gadreel begins uncertainly, "Did you like it?"

"Yeah, actually," Sam admits, "I really liked that you liked it... that felt good.  It made me feel like... I don't know.  Like we could..."

Gadreel nods slowly, not commenting on the obvious fact that Sam had been aroused by what they'd done.  Instead, he finishes for him, "It can work. But it doesn’t have to work like that.  I would love you even if you never touched me again."

Sam laughs softly, leaning close to kiss him, "I don't think that will be the case."

"But let's just take our time," the blond suggests, holding his lover close.  He wants to offer to return the favor for his pent-up lover, but he knows that it's already been too much.

Sam nods, pressing close for a moment before declaring, "I need a shower."

It wasn't a scummy-feeling-removal shower so much as an I-really-need-to -get-off shower.  He gives Gadreel a firm, adoring kiss, then tells him, "I'll be back in just a few minutes."

Gadreel, blissed out on his first orgasm and an accompanying sense of optimism, just nods and curls up again in the sheets.  He’s pretty clueless, really, and he comments blithely, "I'll be right here."


	4. Chapter 4

Gadreel starts with Kevin because it seems to be the most straightforward (if grievous) offense.  He has a clear understanding of what he did wrong and why it would lead to negative feelings; most living things prefer to continue living and get upset when something else has other plans.

Kevin is angry and awkward; angry because he has every right to be, awkward because he knows that the world would have likely ended without his death.  With his lingering cosmic perspective, he understands the importance of his journey through heaven, but it doesn't change the fact that Gadreel smote him.

It's hard not to be pissed about something like that and Gadreel, for his part, knows better than to make justifications. Instead, he simply apologizes for having been manipulated by Metatron and making a Bad Choice.

Kevin is still angry, but gives him a grudging, good-mannered "It's fine" that they both know he doesn't really mean.

Castiel doesn't want to talk about it and takes off as soon as Gadreel tries to broach the topic.

Dean, who is even more avoidant but infinitely more earthbound, is no more compliant.  

"Look," he says, holding up both hands, "You're my brother's boyfriend. I'm not gonna argue with you.  I'm trying to like you for his sake."

"I appreciate that, but I am asking for your forgiveness."

"Great, but I just don't think you're actually that sorry.  Looks like things worked out pretty well for you," Dean says, more sharply than he means to.  He mentally scolds himself and turns away.

Gadreel marvels for a moment at the simplicity of Dean's limited, accusatory perspective, but ultimately decides to stay the course.

"I am sorry to have wronged you, Dean.  I should not have accepted your consent because it was given under duress."

That wording makes Dean uncomfortable and reminds him of Charlie's disbelieving _Still, Dean!  Consent!  Seriously!  I mean, come on, you helped the guy to basically angelic date-rape your brother!_ Maybe that was why the whole thing felt so off to him.  It wasn't just an awkward period without control, it was actual feeling of violation.  

He can't handle thinking about that happening to both him and Sam, especially since it was his fault both times.  He tries to rouse anger rather than guilt or depression.

"I don’t care about that,” he lies brusquely, “How 'bout apologizing to me for making me think you were actually out to help my little brother in the first place?  For using me to trick him when you were just out for yourself?"

"Dean, I always intended to help Sam."

"Really, because it sure seemed like you were just getting cozy in the penthouse suite."

"If things had gone the way I had thought that they would, I would have just... left when when we were both healed."

"Yeah, but Metatron made you a better deal and you just jumped to break your promise.  Did you ever apologize to Sam for that?"

"Yes."

Dean stops, surprised at that.  It's hard to maintain his defensive aggression in the face of his open, matter-of-fact admission.  He also knows Gadreel well enough by now to know that he doesn't lie.

"Look, just tell me straight - were you actually trying to help? _Really_?  Because I trusted you, man.  I did what you said, I even kicked Cas out into the freaking cold because you told me to.  I've got a lot to live with for trusting you."

The former angel nods, "Dean, I honestly intended to help.  Even moreso once I touched Sam's soul."

"So why'd you screw us over? I mean, didn't it seem like a bad idea at the time, trusting someone who told you to kill your friends and, I dunno, permanently take over Sam?"

"In retrospect, yes.  I am unfortunately... not very good at seeing through deception."

"Yeah, the whole garden thing, got it. That's kinda a once bitten thing, though, so I don't get why you were so freaking ready to hop back into the saddle of stupidity again.  I mean, are you dumb or just trusting?"

Gadreel licks his lips, surprisingly stung by the comment.  To an angel, who was a physical manifestation of thought, being called stupid was a high insult.  This was just not going well.

"I... I'm from a different time. Before the fall of man, when lies simply weren't told. I'm not stupid."

Dean sighs, catching that he'd actually pierced skin with that last barb.  For some reason, he almost feels bad about it.

"Okay.  You know, fine.  Everyone gets taken in sometimes, whatever.  I get it, I get that Metatron's a smooth talker.  He tricked Cas too."

Gadreel nods, looking slightly ashamed, "I just wanted to help my family."

"Yeeeeah..." Dean agrees grudgingly, "I've heard that one before... It's a bit of a Winchester family thing."

_So welcome to the freaking family._

He groans quietly, then walks the the fridge to get two beers.  He pushes one into Gadreel's hand, "Come on, sit down.  We'll have a drink.  I've got questions for you."  
The former angel looks at him uncertainly, then follows his lead to take a seat at the rickety little table in the kitchen.  He handles the bottle of beer awkwardly, then sets it on the table in front of him and watches as Dean expertly uncaps his own.

The hunter looks at him appraisingly, then sighs and reaches over for the other bottle, “Sheesh, you’re worse than Cas.”

He pops the cap and hands the bottle back to Gadreel, eyebrows raised expectantly.  The other man doesn’t know yet that Dean’s way of accepting people into his family generally involves taking care of them, be it rescuing them from certain death or providing food and shelter.  Even so, he recognizes that this little sit-down is tremendous progress from a man who doesn’t want to give him an inch.

“Thank you,” Gadreel says quietly.

“Yeah, you’re welcome,” Dean replies as though it’s no big deal.  He takes a fortifying swallow of beer, wishing that it was something a bit stronger, then says, wanting to switch the conversation to something less personal, “So, ah.  How is the uh humanity thing working out for you."

The former angel looks at his beer for a moment, then takes a thoughtful sip.  He immediately makes a face at the bitter flavor - like Castiel, his human palate tends more to sweet flavors.  Still, following Dean's example, he takes another manful swallow.

Dean smirks.  In some ways, Gadreel is like a little kid.  He wonders if he's been introduced to coffee yet.  If not, he secretly hopes to be there to see the face he makes.

"It's hard to gauge.  I don't have a basis of comparison as to how I'm faring compared to another angel turned mortal.  I would ask Castiel, but he has been rather laconic."

"He can be like that," Dean agrees.

"However, Charlie has taught me how to operate a computer and a smartphone and she says that I am very natural at both... and Sam has taught me to fire and maintain a gun.  My accuracy is improving and I think I might soon be useful."

"Useful, huh?" the hunter muses.  It wasn't what he'd asked, though; he hadn't been looking for a score card.  Still, if that is the direction that Gadreel is taking the conversation, all the better.  He doesn't need to get into anything deeper than that.

"Yes, I want to be useful to you and Sam."

Dean's a little surprised by that; he had expected that all of this was for Sam.  Though he also realizes that Sam has no expectations for him to speak of, and that Dean is the one whom the blond needs to impress.  He just hadn't realized that he actually wanted to.

"To me?"

"Yes."

"Huh."

He takes a longer swallow of his beer, "Well, good.  We're going to need all the help that we can get."

"I’m hoping to be able to accompany you to help with your tasks."

"Not sure Sam'll be too into that."

"I don't want to stay behind every time," Gadreel says with surprising firmness.  He takes a determined swig of his beer and tries not to ruin his forceful statement with a shudder.

Dean raises his eyebrows, "Well, as long as you're not dead weight I guess you can tag along.  We'll start small, like a normal hunt or something.  They always seem to crop up when we’re busy with the bigger stuff.  But you're probably not going to just go prancing down into Hell with us."

The blond frowns,but Dean just lifts his bottle warningly at him, "Don't argue.  Even if you're not worried bout yourself, you're a liability.  Either Sam'll worry bout you or you'll slow us down."

Gadreel gives him a surprisingly sullen look, then says, "But you can't bring Castiel either, and you'll want someone with knowledge-"

"Why couldn't Cas come?"

"He'll upset the balance further.  An archangel in Hell?"

"Well, we'll just skewer a couple of the other bastards when we get there to make some room," Dean replies stubbornly, setting his bottle down with a clank.

"And the danger to him won't worry or distract  you?" Gadreel asks curiously.

The elder Winchester bristles, "He's good in a fight.  He'll be fine."

The blond sits back and scrutinizes his lover’s brother with fierce hazel eyes.  Dean can tell that he wants to argue and gives him a warning look.  Unfazed, the former angel affirms, “It’s dangerous”

“Everything is dangerous, but it needs to get taken care of.  If we don’t, everyone’s dead.”

Gadreel nods thoughtfully, sighing, “It isn’t fair that it always falls on the two of you.  I don’t understand why there’s no one else out of a population of billions.  How is the fate of the universe so narrowly focused in on you?”

“It has something to do with shirking the whole Avatars for the Apocalypse thing.  The world wants to end and it’s gonna keep making us pay for the fact that we won’t let it.”

“The apocalypse is my fault.  If I hadn’t failed at my task, there would have never been demons or Hell or Heaven or any of this… I feel responsible and I want to help shoulder your burden.”

Dean looks at him consideringly, then sighs tiredly, “Look, if it hadn’t been you, it woulda been something else.  Nothing good can last.”

“Please let me help.”

“You can, in the ways I tell you.”

“Hell is too dangerous for Castiel.  Dean, he is the only archangel outside of the pit. Demons will tear him apart and he’s self-sacrificing enough to let them to protect you.  If he dies, he is lost to you permanently because he doesn’t have a soul that can join you in heaven.”  

“It’s not up for discussion,” Dean replies flatly.

“Dean-”

“Good talk,” Dean says, getting up abruptly and putting the empty bottle in the recycle bin, “We’ll have to do it again sometime.”  


\-----------------------

  
Dean calls his archangel to him moments later and immediately pulls him into his arm.  He drags him close and presses the smaller man’s head to his shoulder, turning his own face to Castiel’s dark hair.

He kisses the confused angel’s temple, closing his eyes and focusing on the slight overwarmth of his lover’s body against his.

“Dean?” he asks uncertainly.

“Yeah,” the hunter acknowledges, holding him snugly against his chest.  Now that Castiel is again immortal, his long body is more firm, less yielding in his arms than when he had been human.  Even so, the angels moves with him, curling against him naturally and sliding his arms about his waist.

“Do you need something?” Cas breathes, rubbing his lower back.

“No.”

“Mm,” he hums by way of response.  He is silent for a moment, letting the fragile mortal creature cradle him as though he is protecting him.  He turns his head, lifting his chin, and lightly kisses Dean’s mouth, “Dean, what is it?”

“Nothing, Cas.  Just wanted to see you."

The angel sighs patiently, "Dean."

Dean shakes his head.  He doesn’t know why the brief exchange with Gadreel rattled him.  Perhaps it is that he is already on edge just from talking to his former copilot, or maybe he just didn’t like hearing aloud things that already worry him.

“You really the only archangel left?”

Castiel nods, surprised by the question.  He rubs his fingers along the soft cotton of Dean’s worn t-shirt, contemplating that question.

“Michael and Lucifer are still alive, though trapped.”

“But you’re basically the last archangel in the free world, yeah?”

“I suppose.”

“That make you harder to kill?”

“Potentially, though I don’t know.  Gabriel and Metatron were both killed with the blades of archangels… and I smote Raphael with a power beyond that of any archangel.”

“But it takes an archangel sword to kill an archangel, basically.  Or something bigger.  Okay.  So as long as you don’t fumble your own blade and stay out of the Cage, you should be fine.”

“Right…” Cas says uncertainly, pulling back to look up at him.  He bluntly asks, “Why?”

Dean shakes his head.  He doesn’t want to linger on the blind panic that seems to lurk just below the surface at all times. A tiny voice in him is whispering _You’re going to be alone_ on loop at all times; alcohol, adrenaline, pleasure, and duty can drown it out for a little white, but it never really goes away.  He is never quite able to trust that Cas won’t be taken away from him, and their recent scare was almost too much for him.

He still sometimes thinks about the dying angel’s cool, grace-burned body slowing in his arms.

“Nothing.  Just thinking.”

“Well, stop,” Cas says flatly, leaning up to kiss him firmly.

The hunter smiles slightly at that, “You gonna make me?”

Castiel knows that Dean’s issues run deeper than he can brush off; his lover doesn’t talk about the things that scare him until they’ve a point where he is physically unable to shoulder their weight any longer.  Knowing this, he doesn’t push him.  Instead, he kisses him again, pulling him nearer and giving him the closeness that he wants and the distraction that he needs.

“Yes, I think I am.”  


\-----------------------------------------------------------

  
Sam is impressed by the improvement in Gadreel’s marksmanship.  The tall, sturdy hunter claps him on the shoulder and pulls him up against his side, giving him a kiss by way of reward.

“It’s like night and day, it really is.  You’re doing great.”

The former angel smiles at him warmly, pleased by the praise, “Thank you… you’ve been a remarkable, patient instructor.”

“Yeah, well.  What can I say, I’m pretty great,” Sam laughs.

“You are,” Gadreel says with his usual forceful earnestness, even though Sam had been joking.

It reassures Sam to see him becoming self-sufficient.  He knows that his companion has been practicing hard - the former angel burned through several boxes of bullets while they were away and there were numerous paper targets absolutely riddled with bullet holes.  He likes to imagine that Gadreel is safer now than he was before, better suited to living as a mortal man in the company of hunters.

They stand together for a moment before Gadeel asks, “When will I be able to accompany you and Dean?”

“Wh-what?” Sam stumbles over the words, surprised to hear them.

“I’ve been memorizing lore, learning to shoot… Dorothy has grudgingly instructed me in hand-to-hand combat,” he explains quickly.  He is fairly certain that the only reason that the adventurer agreed to teach him is because she likes to have the opportunity to hit him; she is still angry about what he had done to Kevin, to whom she had taken an instant, protective liking.  He has bruises all over his upper body from his sparring matches with the small, strong fighter.

“Gadreel…” the taller man begins uncertainly.

“Sam, _I can use an iPhone_.”

He laughs, though he doesn’t mean to. With his arm around his shoulder, he hugs Gadreel up against his side, “And that’s very… useful to a hunter.  But I don’t know.  I need to think about it, and, uh, ask Dean about his plans.”

The blond sighs heavily, moving to face him.  He’s only a few inches shorter and just as broad; his eyes are intense and expectant.

“You can’t just expect me to stay here all the time, especially when you are out risking your life,” Gadreel tells him firmly.

“I know, I know.  You probably get bored here, and you really should see more of the world… and I dunno, do more things.  It’s just that it’s really dangerous right now… when things settle out, I’ll take you everywhere, okay?  Just…”

“The way things work out with you and your brother, I doubt that your life will ever settle out-”

“You’ve been talking to Dean, haven’t you?” Sam says drily, raising his eyebrows.

“I belong on the battlefield, as I am at fault for its creation,” he continues, unfazed by Sam’s interruption, “And I belong with you.”

The hunter takes Gadreel’s empty gun and double-checks the safety, then sets it on the counter.  With that out of the way, he tugs the former angel into his arms and rests his cheek against his brow.  He sighs heavily, obviously conflicted by his lover’s insistence.

“I’ll talk to Dean about it.”

Gadreel pulls back and fixes on him with with a piercing, critical stare.

“I can’t just say yes,” Sam protests weakly.

There’s an obvious _You said yes before_ joke there, but it skims merrily over Gadreel’s head.  He smirks, Charlie-like again, then says, “So ask Dean, beloved.  But understand that I will continue to ask until you allow me to come.”

He leans closer to kiss him, then tells him, “I’m sure I can wear you down.”

The hunter laughs, “I’m pretty resilient.”

Gadreel kisses him again, “Except that I know that you dislike traveling without me.  That much was obvious by how you greeted me when you returned home.”

Sam reddens, grinning surprisingly shyly.  He kisses his lover’s forehead, suddenly picturing an extremely awkward car trip with both brothers and both boyfriends.  Cas had been trained not to talk about his relationship with Dean, and he wonders if maybe he would need to come up with some ground rules for Gadreel as well.  He isn’t Dean and isn’t as a hung up on things like sexuality, but he isn’t sure how much Gadreel knows about appropriate conversation topics.  There is also the simple fact that if they travel together, they will likely pass through a lot of places that aren’t friendly to same-sex couples.  Angels or demons knowing would certainly be a liability, though in retrospect Dean had been fielding angel-banging jibes for years and it hadn’t seemed to make much difference to the danger level.

“Well…” he says uncertainly, “There’s a bunch of things we’d need to do first.  Like, there’s stuff you and I need to talk about… and you’ll need an anti-possession tattoo…”

Gadreel steps back slightly to pull down the neckline of his t-shirt.

“I have one.”

Sam blinks.  How had he missed that?  Then again, despite the makeout sessions and sharing a room, he hadn’t actually seen Gadreel with his shirt off in awhile.  He looks from the mark up to his lover’s face.

“When did you get that?”

“Castiel did it while you were away.  He also marked my bones with Enochian warding to protect me.”

“Oh…” he replies, “Well.  Ah, I guess that’s good, then.  One fewer thing to do.”

“One fewer excuse for you, you mean,” Gadreel says with a soft, understated smugness that makes Sam smile.  Certain parts of Gadreel’s angelic personality were only beginning to show themselves in his human demeanor, and Sam enjoyed watching him become more the angel he’d known.

“Riiiiiight.  Well, don’t you just know everything,” Sam tells him, kissing him lightly.  He gives his side a brief, tickling squeeze, then releases him, “Well, come on.  You need to prove to me that you can shoot a rifle as well, then I want to see what Dorothy’s been teaching you.”

Gadreel rolls his eyes and presses his lips together primly, an expression he’d learned from Sam himself.  The hunter marvels at how strange it is to be on the receiving end of what Dean calls his ‘bitch face’ and can’t help but laugh.  It is interesting watching his soulmate adjust to life as a mortal man; while he knows that there are many challenges ahead of both of them, both personally and apocalyptically, having the blond with them makes him feel as though life might continue even after the angels were out of Hell.

As if on cue, the ground gives a tired rumble beneath their feet.

“As you wish, beloved.”

The former angel looks up at him and smiles challengingly, and they both know that the hand-to-hand fighting will turn into grappling, which will likely turn into forceful kissing on one of the training mats.  Sam doesn’t know why that’s all right, or when kissing another man, this other man, became so comfortable.

Life is going to go on, Gadreel is going to force his way into the Impala for a hunt, and it’s not the end of the world yet. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this section ended up being kind of short; I'd written a lot more, but it seemed more plotty and I decided to save it for the next story-based fic. I think I'm going to end this drabble here... I will resume this AU storyline with Episode 10:1 Long Tran Running in a week or two. :) If you're interested, I'd recommend subscribing to the series page.


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